


sober up

by symbionic



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Jeff Winger Has Issues, Mental Breakdown, Post-Finale, Vomiting, comforting britta, hes sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbionic/pseuds/symbionic
Summary: Jeff Winger deals with the inevitable emotional consequences of having to let his friends go.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	sober up

**Author's Note:**

> HI so I basically wrote this in one night because the amazing Holly inspired me to get out my own feelings about the finale. They're all sad.  
> Enjoy! More notes at the end. Also title of the fic is from the AJR song.

It seemed simple and rather straightforward at first.

Accompany your friends to the airport, watch them leave you, join who was left at Britta's bar and enjoy the rest of the night.

For the most part, it was. The little dam keeping all his feelings at bay managed not to crack as he held Abed firmly in his hands, scared that if he let go he would disappear, like trying to hold sand in your palms.

Jeff only really wanted what's best for them, even if it meant not making them worry for him, not causing a scene. Letting them go quietly.

They were better than Greendale. He _wasn't_. He had accepted that, but it still didn't hurt any less.

The small talk at the bar was a nice filler, all the meaningless words swimming in his head meant he could ignore his own thoughts for a while, only focusing on the mechanical motions of bringing his glass up to his lips and swallowing it all down.

He was used to it, it came natural. And if it made his friends — what was left of them — worry, they didn't show it much. Maybe they had given up on him.

He was a lost cause. He was no better than the place he was stuck to rot in.

_Save Greendale? More like, Save Jeff._

He knew deep down it was all an excuse so he could hold on to them for longer, but when you're done with a task like that, all you have left to do is look for something better for yourself.

Jeff fixed his posture and held his glass loosely in a messy attempt to look aloof. He noticed it was empty, and empathized with it.

"Are you still seeing a therapist, Jeff?" the stern female voice broke his internal monologue and startled him "I mean, Craig told me you used to see one. I think it could be good for you."

Jeff scoffed "You're saying I need help?" his eyes darted around defensively "what, like I'm broken?" he went to grab a bottle of scotch on the table to fill his glass, then felt a hand be placed tenderly on his arm.

"I think you know that's not what I mean, Jeff." Frankie said softly. Jeff averted his eyes but he could tell she was staring at him with pity in them. Why did that make him feel comforted?

After all this time, it still felt nice to remember someone actually worried about him and cared. He could never escape the role of the person who needs saving. He could never feel as strong as the walls he kept putting up.

He simply nodded, "Well, I was thinking about it. It's just… last time didn't go so well. Maybe I'm not cut out for it."

The conversation ended there. Soon everyone had left the bar, one by one. It all seemed like it was happening very far away for Jeff, who was losing count of the glasses he had downed. Like a movie, or a TV show. Like it wasn't even real, like it wasn't his life.

Like he wasn't sitting at a table, alone, in a bar, at 4am, still with a firm grip on a bottle of alcohol.

Like time wasn't flying by past him, escaping him like everything else does. Everyone else does.

His head felt heavy all of a sudden, he held it in his hands and closed his eyes.

"Hey Jeff, I need to close the bar." Britta said, suddenly. Or maybe not so suddenly, maybe it had been minutes. He couldn't really tell. "You should go home."

Jeff laughed bitterly, "And do what?" his words slurred a bit.

"How about get some sleep? It's really late." she replied, cleaning up the table at the same time. Going back and forth.

He finally raised his head, only to sink into his chair and bore his stare into the blinding lights of the ceiling.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

He got up and his knees immediately wobbled. He held himself up against the table, getting the car keys out of his pocket. Alcohol made him feel invincible, sometimes. Like he could do anything. Drive a car, or accept that his friends left him. It all felt easier.

The others didn't think the same. As soon as Britta noticed the shiny objects in his hand, she gasped.

"Jeff, absolutely not!!" she rushed to get them away from him.

He turned to her annoyedly, "What?".

"You are _**not**_ driving, idiot!" she finally managed to yank them out of his hands, and put them right in her pocket.

Jeff flinched at that last word, looking the other way, dejectedly.

"Right. Thanks." he mumbled.

As they got out of the bar, Britta held him from the small of his back, letting him lean against her. The smell of several glasses of scotch giving her a small headache.

As she tried to retrieve the key to his car she left him to lean against a wall, not too far away. He looked at the stars.

"They're so far…" he muttered.

Britta looked at him and sighed, still trying to find the match for the car lock, "Well yeah, or else we would be dead. Duh."

Jeff shook his head "No, no, our friends, they…" a small sob shook his chest.

Britta was focused on the car lock, not quite hearing him.

"Britta, I…"

"Uh-hu?" she said, not looking at him.

Not looking at how his jaw and hands were clenching, his face had gone completely pale and he had started curling in on himself.

He sobbed again, louder. The dam was breaking on him. Alcohol had a tendency to do that.

"I'm gonna be sick."

There was a loud hurling sound and then he puked, all of a sudden. Right on the ground, it started pooling as his stomach and his throat and his eyes started burning painfully, his head throbbing so loud it felt like a gunshot exploded right beside him.

It wasn't pretty. He felt small, and viscid.

As soon as Britta heard, she stuffed the keys back in her pocket and immediately rushed to him.

She held him steady and placed her hand on his.

"Britta… don't go- don't let go…" he pleaded, feeling pathetic.

"No, of course not, I'm right here." she caressed his back and gently moved the loose strings of wet hair from his forehead, holding him up. "You shouldn't have drank that much, you know…"

Jeff's eyes turned watery as he tightened his grip on her shirt, " H'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he coughed, his eyes stinging, "Shouldn't have—" he heaved "God I'm disgusting. I'm sorry…." he slurred. And as he said that, he started bawling, but that didn't stop him from apologizing even more.

"No, Jeff, it's okay, let it out—"

He sniffled, holding his stomach "I jus' wanna apologize… because I shouldn't— it's not right that… I'm sure everyone is hurting, but 'h managed to make it about myself again, when ih's... my fault…"

Britta sighed apprehensively "Why would it… no. Look, let's just go home, I can stay at your place for the night… it doesn't even matter if you vomit again, I mean it's your car anyway, what's important is you should be home—".

As she attempted to let go, Jeff leaned against her and held her tighter "Don't leave me please." he managed to say.

"I just need to get you inside the car, come on…"

"No no I… don't leave me." He whimpered "Don't leave me please. H'm sorry.".

Britta's eyes widened as she finally understood what he meant.

He tried to straighten himself but only made his head spin with the jerking motion.

As he curled back down, sitting on the ground, he held his hair up messily. Britta laid her hand on his back, unsure of what to do.

"...Why are you apologizing, Jeff?" there she went, with her armchair psychologist tendencies. On a normal occasion, Jeff would've found it funny, cute, or insulting. He would've scoffed and poked fun at her useless degree. Then he would've felt guilty for the rest of the day. It was a familiar cycle of self harm and sabotage. Give them a reason to leave, then wallow in self pity about how you're a terrible, unlovable person.

Britta asked again, softer, "Why do you feel the need to apologize this much?".

"Because you're gonna leave me if I don't." he answered in a panic, breathy, looking her straight in the eyes, " 'cause this is why everyone leaves me, Britta. It's because I'm—" he gagged "-'cuz I'm broken, and they can't fix me. I'm broken." his chest tightened when he finally let that thought out. The one that had tormented him his whole life, that felt so dangerous to admit.

Britta gently ran her fingers through his clammy hair, in an attempt to ground him.

"They deserve better than Greend— than me... I wish I could fix… things. Myself. I wanna be enough. For once." his chest trembled as he inhaled "But I'll never be enough. If anything I'm too much. I jus' want people to know that—" he breathed, "-I'm trying.".

Britta just looked at him with a pained expression.

"Y'now my daddy was 'n alcoholic." Jeff sighed, "S'metimes I'm scared I'm jus' like him. Like h'm tainted or like he tainted me. I don't wanna be awful." he sobbed quietly, "Or s'metimes I think maybe he wassn't an asshole, and he just left me 'cause I'm…" he held his mouth shut with his hand.

What could he have said anyway? Disgusting. Ugly. Unlovable. Bad. Rotten. He was so desperate to hide it from people, he hoped they wouldn't notice.

Because when they did, they all left. 

It was only a matter of time.

God, maybe he had drank some truth serum with all that alcohol, all the feelings hurling out of him just like throw up, and just as gross. He felt gross. 

He wished he could just shut up, maybe he could still save himself the heartache of driving yet another person away with the pathetic display.

But the faucet had broken entirely, there was no way to close it back up. 

It was too late.

Too late.

" 'hm trying to be strong but I'm so scared." he curled up further, held his legs, like he could disappear, " 'hm a fraud. I'm so scared." he whimpered.

Britta didn't need to ask what he was so afraid of, she was all too familiar with that fear, herself.

"And like, I wanna believe that they'll be back. I trust them. I love them. But that's why I think they shouldn't. They're better than this… 'hr maybe they won't because they will realize how much better their life is, without me in it..." he lowered his head and smiled bitterly " H'm so selfish, I should jus' want what's best for them."

"But you do."

Jeff chuckled, his head filled with static, "I do."

"Yes you do! I mean look at you, Jeff! You're in… you're not doing well. At all. But you let them go, and that's because you love them, more than you love yourself. That's the opposite of selfish! Well newsflash, dummy, we all love you back, Jeff. We know the real you, not the person you want us to see, and we love you. I promise."

Jeff sniffled and let her help him up, finally. It took a while for him to find balance.

He swallowed the impulse to reply _'well maybe you shouldn't, I don't deserve it.'_.

"Thank you… Britta."

"Pfsh, no need to thank me. I mean, you definitely owe me one for making me smell your puke, but we'll talk about it another time." she laughed shortly, finally opening the car door to the backseat and helping Jeff sit down. He laughed with her.

She sat at the driver's seat right after that.

She didn't start the car.

"I miss them too, you know." she admitted, simply.

Jeff snickered, "Soundss to me like the therapist needs a therapist." he slurred pointedly, finding it hilarious.

Britta held her hands on the wheel, tapping lightly, looking at Jeff through the rearview mirror.

"Well, I'm not—" her brows furrowed slightly "Yeah. Hey, tell you what. I'll go if you go."

The corner of Jeff's mouth turned upwards into a soft, genuine smile.

"...Sounds good, Brit. You defffinitely need it more than me anyway." he chuckled.

She grinned in response, "Yeah, I care about you too, dick."

As she drove out of the parking space, Jeff's face turned serious again for a moment.

"Hey, 'bout all this…"

"I'm not sleeping with you."

His expression contorted, his nose curling "No! 'H mean… please, don't tell the others."

Britta sighed "Aw, and I was really looking forward to using this against you whenever you act like a jerk. Nah, don't worry about it. You're good."

Jeff smiled, reassured.

For the first time in a while he felt safe, like he didn't need to put up a cool persona and could just exist.

As he laid back, then down, the vibrations of the wheels against the asphalt comforted him. His sobs had gone away.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to write metaphorically so I feel like with this fic I tried to show Jeff's journey in his first necessary step in order to accept reality and get better, both literally and with everything that happens. Even the title implies that something brighter is ahead for him. He can do this. Other than that, I would love to see your comments! I really hope you enjoyed as it was also a very personal and painful thing for me to write, hmu at @rnacden on twitter for more jeff supremacy content


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